Bloodstream
by wow-what-a-peach
Summary: Emilie Walker is a recent graduate working for Jane Foster when she is quite literally whisked away to Asgard. What starts out as a rather unfortunate situation quickly escalates into absolute pandemonium. Through the chaos and confusion, a pair of mischievous green eyes watches.
1. Chapter 1

_-Welcome, friends. I've been writing for a while but never posted any of my half-assed stories online. This time, I decided to actually try and give it a shot. So, hopefully you dig it and decide to stick around! For the record, I totally hate writing introduction chapters as they always feel awkward and long-winded so forgive me. Cheers!-_

Three alarms had been set to wake Emilie Walker up. Three alarms had been slept through, leaving Emilie scrambling to make it out the door on time. She drove erratically and distracted the whole way to work before finally reaching the small laboratory she'd only recently started at. Checking her watch, she saw that she was one minute shy of being late. Quickly grabbing her bag and exiting the car, she wildly ran through the sliding glass doors and into the heavily air-conditioned building. Fumbling with the turnstile, she spat out a few curses before finally freeing herself and sprinting to her office. The lights were still only half on, indicating that she was one of the first people here. If that was the case, it was quite possible that her boss wasn't even in yet.

"Morning Em," Jane chirped, peeking into her unlit office.

Stiffening, she slowly turned around, a guilty smile on her face. "Hey there."

"Rough morning, huh?"

"Yeah, about that," Emilie began.

"Don't worry about it, seriously. I'm glad you're with us, I'm not going to fire you because your one minute and thirteen seconds late."

"But who's counting right?" She replied, some of the tension leaving her body.

Jane let out a small laugh, "Right."

"Look, I've got those reports you asked for about the conditions of the experiment we did last week and-"

A deafening clap of thunder interrupted her, causing the office to shake and a few items to fall haphazardly off of her desk.

"The hell was that?" She asked, wide eyes staring unblinkingly at Jane.

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "That would be my-uh, friend," she answered, crossing her arms and heading out of her office.

"None of my friends show up with their own weather sound effects!" She yelled after her, still shaken from the jolt of the rumble.

Bending over, she picked up the pens and post-it notes off the floor. As she stood, she painfully banged her head off the underside of the desk.

"God damn," she muttered, sinking back to the floor and rubbing her skull in an attempt to alleviate some of the sting.

She heard the sounds of footsteps approaching her office and quickly pulled herself back up. Jane reappeared, looking much less annoyed and definitely more perky. Behind her, a tall, muscled man manifested, strings of golden hair falling gracelessly to his shoulders.

"Emilie, this is my friend-"

"Thor."

"Yeah, actually. How did you-"

"Holy shit."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Thor remarked, holding out a large hand to her. Emilie did not move, her wide-eyed stare returning and her mouth falling open. An awkward silence passed as Thor kept his hand out only to have Emilie continue to ignore it. Finally, he slowly returned his arm to his side and averted his gaze to the floor.

"Em," Jane prodded, a concerned look washing over her.

"Yeah, I'm still here," she replied, still staring unblinkingly at the majestic man in front of her.

Jane nodded, turning silently to usher Thor out of the room, leaving Emilie to soak in her awe alone. After a few more moments, she finally came around, letting out a gasp of air and collapsing into her office chair.

"What a morning," she whispered to herself, staring out of the office and across the hall to Jane's windowed suite. She could see her carefree demeanor had left, leaving a flustered posture mirroring Thor's own antsy stance. She couldn't hear what they were saying through the closed door, but she could tell that he did not bring good tidings.

Feeling suddenly as if she were intruding on a private moment, she tried to look busy, all the while trying to process that she was less than thirty feet from an actual God.

After what seemed like an eternity of silent arguments and awkward peeping on Emilie's end, the duo emerged, both looking flustered and anxious. Pretending to be occupied with random papers on her desk, Emilie kept her head down and listened as their footsteps became louder and closer. Before they could reach her office, another deafening crack erupted throughout the air.

Stumbling out of her chair, she moved out and into the main space, standing next to Jane and Thor.

"If that thunder wasn't you, who was it?" She asked, her voice shaky. The fear etched on both of their faces did nothing to calm her nerves, instead she felt her pulse skyrocket.

"We must leave," Thor announced, pulling both women close to him.

Before she could respond, Emilie was being pulled a hundred different directions. The tug in her lower abdomen was similar to riding roller coasters at the beach in the summer only this time she was fighting tears instead of laughter. Her eyes were squinted painfully shut so that she was beginning to see stars. The flap of her jacket was rapidly echoing around her, the only sound that she was able to recognize amongst the whooshing of air in her ears.

Without warning or preparation, she came to a sudden stop, falling painfully onto a cooled marble floor.

Letting out a groan, she rolled onto her back and stared up at an electric night sky. Galaxies and constellations she had never known of were littered across the sky, decorating the deep blackness of space. Turning her head to her right, she was greeted by an elegant palace, gleaming and glittering with gold and magic and guarded by men in armor unlike any other she'd ever been exposed to.

Movement to her left signaled to her that she had not landed alone.

"Where the fuck are we?" She grumbled, a sharp pain emanating from her ribs as she spoke.

"We are in Asgard," Thor announced, suddenly standing over her and offering his hand yet again.

Hesitating, she eventually placed a hand in his and allowed him to pull most of her weight off the ground, hissing as the movement fueled the throbbing in her side.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know, I landed pretty hard," she replied, placing her own hand softly on the skin around her aching ribs.

Jane appeared, her chestnut hair blown back and her cheeks reddened by the journey.

"I landed like that my first time too," she offered, gesturing to Emilie as she hunched over.

"That's unfortunate," she answered, at a loss for anything else to say.

"We should get inside," Thor suggested, making his way towards the palace without waiting to hear any objections. Jane scurried after him, falling into step at his side and speaking in hushed tones, leaving Emilie behind to gape once again at her situation.

"Seriously, what a morning," she repeated as she limped after them.

Once she stood in the shadow of the massive structure she allowed herself to truly marvel at her surroundings. A faint glow reflected off her face as she examined the ornate details of the royal home. A handful of guards armed with sharpened spears regarded her curiously as Thor nodded at them, forcing them to step aside and let the son of Odin through. Matching the outside, the interior of the palace was massive and decorated beautifully. Paintings and exquisite sculptures ordained the foyer, leading guests further into the structure and into a maze of hallways leading to unknown destinations.

"Can somebody please tell me what we're doing here?"

Her voice echoed off the stone walls and she cringed as her own question was asked back to her.

"It's the safest place at the moment," Thor answered, turning to face her. "We should get you looked at."

She waved him off. "I'm fine."

He nodded slowly, unconvinced.

"What's this about being safe? Was there someone after us?"

"Not you, per se," he began. "You and Jane were in the wrong place at the wrong time and it is my duty to protect those I selfishly put in harm's way," he finished, shooting Jane a pleading look. Her face gave away nothing, yet Emilie could see a flinch of anger before she regained her neutral expression.

"Do you suppose we will be back in time for dinner?"

Both parties looked at her, puzzled.

"It's just that I set out some chicken to thaw and I really don't want it sitting in the apartment all night, the cat might eat it or it might-"

"Emilie, we're literally in another realm, being pursued by a henchman of one of the universe's most feared villains and all you can think about is some god damned chicken?"

Jane stood, exasperated, her hands on her hips and a look of frustration on her face.

Emilie shot her an apologetic look. "I'm quite sorry that I don't have the etiquette for the situation. You see, I've never left the state of Pennsylvania let alone the Gosh dang atmosphere so my reactions probably aren't the most conventional. Oh, let's not forget the part about being chased away by some creepy villainous alien thing!"

Sighing, Jane shifted on her weight, clearly as uneasy with the situation as Emilie. Thor regarded the pair for a moment before moving to lean against the wall.

"We should be safe here for now but I need to construct a better plan."

"And what are we supposed to do? Run around and play medieval housewives while you take this on by yourself?" Jane stomped over to him, gently placing a hand on his arm and silently urging him to look up at her. As his blue eyes met her chocolate orbs, his gaze softened and the strain lifted from his body. "We do it together," she added, shooting him the tiniest smile.

"Very well," he began, "but first we need to seek out permission to stay here."

"Permission? You're father-"

"My father no longer rules. Since his relapse into Odinsleep, my brother has taken the crown for himself."

"Loki? That's impossible, we saw him die! He died!" A puzzled look graced her face as Emilie stood back, watching the information unfold.

"You know as well as I that my brother is skilled in deceit and illusions. It appears that his righteous act of self-sacrifice has redeemed him in many eyes and he now reigns over the kingdom. I have not returned home to snatch his most prized possession from his hands. We need to stay here, else we risk being caught. I know not what these creatures want from me yet I know they will stop at nothing until I am captured. Until I can discover their motives and their weakness, we need the safety of Asgard." He paused, swallowing and averting his gaze to the floor. "But first, I need to ask permission of my brother."

With that, he took off out of the room, leaving a frustrated Jane and a perplexed Emilie to settle in his wake.

"Seriously, what the actual fuck," Emilie muttered, "I just wanted some damn chicken for dinner."


	2. Rough Introduction

_Thank you to those who followed and favorited! I truly expected nobody to read this (except for maybe my mom) so this is already a wonderful surprise! Here's to hoping you enjoy the second chapter and please feel free to reach out with any comments/questions/flattering remarks/compliments/general kiss-assery ;)._

Time seemed to pass slower than usual as the two women paced the hall. No words were spoken, the only sounds coming from their shuffled steps and occasional sighs. Just when Emilie was about to venture out of their confines to explore an option of exiting, heavy boots on stone echoed towards them. Six soldiers came into view sporting less-than-stellar expressions and firmly gripping various weapons.

"You are to come with us," they commanded, forming a semi-circle around the girls.

"Where's Thor?" Jane questioned, standing up straighter and speaking with an edge to her tone.

"You are to come with us," the man in the front repeated, his grip tightening around his golden spear.

"I've seen 'Cops', I know the drill," Emilie replied, moving forward with her hands in the air.

With one half of the duo surrendering, Jane gave up her act and followed behind Emilie, falling into step next to the guards.

They continued to walk until they reached two large doors carved from deep red wood and etched with foreign markings. With a single unified stomp of their boots, the guards stood back and the massive gates opened, revealing an enormous room supported by ivory columns and golden trim. At the center of the space atop a half-dozen marble stairs was a grand throne neighbored by two guards similar to the ones leading Jane and Emilie. Perched upon the royal seat was someone Emilie immediately recognized. News of the attacks in New York had spread like wildfire across the nation accompanied by blurred photographs of the alleged perpetrator. Sitting across from her, she could see that his raven hair had grown a few inches and his cheekbones had become more pronounced, yet it was still the same God of Mischief. An impish grin was spread across his ivory skin, his green eyes gleaming wickedly.

"Ah! You've arrived! So lovely to have guests gracing our halls once again," he purred, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his leathers chafing audibly as he did so.

Neither girl said anything in response, instead allowing themselves to be led further into the room until they stood at the base of the stairs. Emilie wasn't sure to look, so she settled for the floor. Her mind still felt as if she were travelling through space, racing a hundred miles per minute.

"Where is Thor?" Jane ground out, her bravery far surpassing Emilie's apprehensiveness.

Loki barked out a bitter laugh. "Don't fuss. My brother has informed me of your situation and I, being a God of benevolence, have allowed him to take up quarters in the dungeon. I assure you, he'll be most safe down there."

"You can't," Jane started, fists forming at her side.

"Oh but I can, and I did," he replied, leaning casually back into the marble throne.

"How are we supposed to figure anything out if he's locked away?"

"Quite simple. I'll lock you down with him."

"I thought they said you changed," she spat, anger radiating off of her small-framed body.

Another cheeky snicker echoed off the walls of the room. "You don't know me very well."

With that, he sent a commanding nod at the guards, who quickly rounded up the girls and began to guide them out the same way they had entered.

"One moment," Loki called, causing the sentinels to halt. "I don't think I got your name, girl."

Cursing under her breath, Emilie spun around slowly to face him.

"Emilie," she muttered, her gaze lingering on his roguish smile.

"Emilie," he repeated, sending an involuntary shiver through her body, "I hope you'll find the cells as comfortable as I did when my own father and brother sentenced me."

"I'm sure they had reason," she retorted, bringing a hand to cover her mouth once she'd realized she'd spoken her inner thought aloud.

Suddenly, without warning, he was no longer perched high above her out of harm's way. Instead, he was mere inches from her face. She could feel his hot, angry breath kissing her face and she shrunk inwardly into herself.

"You dare to speak ill of me out of turn?" He snarled, his hand forcefully grabbing her chin and steering her eyes to meet his.

Suddenly, her mouth went dry and her stomach flipped. Of course, she out of all people would be whisked away to another planet and probably murdered by a villainous God all because she was a few minutes late to work.

Closing her eyes, she prepared for the worst.

"I believe," he mused, "some hard work would do you good," he finally spat, dismissing the other guards while doing so.

"No, wait-" she pleaded.

"Let her come with me!" Jane shouted as she was led further and further away. Her voice continued to fade until the doors opened and closed, leaving Emilie to share her space with Loki, who now sported a look of mischief rather than anger. This somehow frightened her more.

"To start, you'll need to rid yourself of those pathetic rags," he nodded to her outfit and she unconsciously crossed her arms over her chest.

He noticed her discomfort and shot her a playful smirk. "Oh come now, surely you don't think I'd make you disrobe here? I've no interest in losing my appetite," he explained with a dismissive wave of his long-fingered hand.

For some reason, his remark stung and she tried not to dwell on it as she tightened her arms against herself.

"Well where should I go then?" She inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll round up a room for you, all of the servants are blessed with their own quarters."

Servants?

He moved around her, circling her like a predator before the kill, admiring the way her body trembled in his presence. Her breathing was becoming erratic, the rush of events suddenly catching up to her and hitting her with the force of a ton of bricks. She stuttered forward, her vision blurring and her head spinning.

"Rough trip?"

She managed a nod before trying to center herself again, the familiar pang around her ribs returning with a vengeance.

"Well, let's not delay any further then. I'll have a guard escort you to your new quarters and we'll go from there," he stated, turning his back on her and swiftly returning to the throne, a pleased look gracing his face.

A guard appeared and roughly grabbed her elbow, steering her out of the large space and into the smaller hall. As they walked, the candles grew dimmer and the space grew narrower until they were forced to walk single-file.

"Your room," the stranger ground out, opening a creaky door and stepping aside to let her through. She walked into the room and blanched. A single mattress lay in the corner of the room, it's only decorative counterpart being a small wardrobe placed against the opposite wall. Before she could protest, the guard disappeared, the slamming of the door and the distant echo of his footsteps being the only indications that he ever existed.

She shuffled over to the wardrobe, tentatively opening the poorly constructed door, only to have it fall off and clash noisily onto the floor.

"I've always preferred open wardrobes anyway," she muttered to herself, the sound of her voice comforting against the stale air of the room.

Inside hung a pale gray sleeveless dress and a stained apron.

As she regarded the garment, a stern knock from the main door stirred her out of her thoughts. Pulling away from the wardrobe, she hesitantly placed her ear against the door in hopes that whoever sought entrance would soon leave. Just when she thought her first wish had come true, she was pushed unceremoniously against the damp floor as the door came crashing open.

"You'd do well to open when someone knocks," a gruff voice advised.

Looking up, Emilie regarded the stout woman before her. Long, inky hair freckled with gray sat in a haphazard braid against her own servants dress. An apron similar to the one in Emilie's wardrobe hung dutifully around her thick neck, which housed an bloated head and a permanent scowl.

"Up! Up! Get up! This is no time for relaxing!" She shrieked, pulling the dress out of the wardrobe and throwing it angrily upon Emilie's head. "You're to put this on and report to the throne room. And put these on as well," she demanded, dropping a pair of black slippers at her feet.

When Emilie did not move right away, the woman struck her against her face, drawing a trickle of warm crimson blood from her lip.

"You will listen and respond when I tell you to do something," she spat, turning to exit. "Midgardian trash," she snarled before she slammed the door behind her.

Emilie sat for a moment, stunned at the turn of events. She'd never been hit in all of her adult life. The last time someone had slapped her was in elementary school. Curtis Baker was a pint-sized little shit who'd hit her when she'd knocked him down accidentally by jumping on the swing bridge at the playground. He'd thrown a fit and after the shock had worn off, she'd pushed him down intentionally, threatening to give him the biggest wedgie to rival all wedgies if he ever raised a hand to her again. After that day, he'd avoided her like a disease carrying rat during the bubonic plague. Now, she felt the familiar anger boiling inside of her and part of her wanted to throw open the door and track down the old hag, giving her a taste of her own medicine. Something inside of her told her that would be a very poor decision and she decided instead to flip off the back of the closed door.

Wiping the excess blood from her lip, she pushed herself off the ground, grinding her teeth as her ribs screamed out in protest. With the back-to-back falls, there was little doubt that she had at least bruised them.

Sighing once more, she began to shed her clothes until she was left standing against the cold in a pale yellow bra and unflattering pair of purple panties. She slipped the dress over her head and found that it fit perfectly. It smelled of sweat and mold and the bottom was tattered with stray strings tickling her shins as she moved, yet it was exactly her size. The slippers also fit wonderfully, snuggling against the paleness of her feet and warming her icy toes. With the comfortable clothes, she almost forgot that she was quite literally transforming into a servant when a mere hour or so ago her biggest worry was being late to work.

Swallowing the urge to cry and pout and throw the biggest tantrum, she pulled herself together and began the long, grimy walk back up to the throne room. The guards separated, clearly expecting her and standing by as she passed through the large doors yet again. With her head held as high as she could manage, she sauntered to the base of the steps, keeping her gaze ahead.

"Much better," he observed, "now you fit the part."

She held back a retort, instead choosing to painfully dig her nails into her palm.

"I'll start out with a simple task for you, how does that sound?"

When she said nothing, he once again leapt from his resting position and stood over her, his hand raised and ready to strike.

"Did you not hear me, girl?" He dipped his head so he could see her face. "Ah, I see you've already earned a token from the staff." Drawing a long finger against her lip, he let out a low chuckle. "We don't want to mark up your pretty face, not just yet," he crooned, placing his hand back at his side.

Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she squeezed her hand once again, beginning to feel her half-moon indents break skin against the pressure of her dull nails.

He stepped back but did not return to his throne.

"You will help to prepare the meals in the kitchen for now. When I think of more use for you, you'll be summoned again. Is that understood?"

She nodded.

"Speak," he commanded, folding his hands behind his back.

"Yes," she answered, her tone venomous.

"Good girl, you may return to your room now."

"Where are Jane and Thor?" She asked, lifting her gaze to plead with his own.

A visible snarl erupted on his face. "You will not concern yourself with either of them any longer. You fall under my rule now and you will, therefore, busy yourself with matters of my desires and wishes. Are you unclear about any of this?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Return to your chambers before I decide to add to your wounds."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and quickly left the room, hurrying down the hall and to her own space. Collapsing onto the mattress, she hardly noticed the filth and dampness. Instead, she allowed herself a good cry, her body heaving and shaking with sobs of frustration, fear, and confusion. How the hell did she manage to wind up here?


	3. Chop Chop

_Hey everyone! Super short update because I have a break from school & also I'm not entirely sure if this is going in the right direction or not? I'm assuming it's mediocre at best because nobody has said otherwise so if you want to see something different or have any ideas, please share them! I promise I don't bite and I could really use a bit of guidance on how it's going. I still plan on writing regardless because I have a goal to finish this but some feedback would be wonderful! I've already got half of chapter 4 done, so expect that very soon. Thanks again to those who've followed/favorited, you're all beautiful ducklings and I'm sending you virtual hugs (unless touching weirds you out, in which case I'm sending you virtual head nods and scandalous winks). _

A loud clatter awoke her from her dreamless nap. The room was shrouded in darkness and she thought she felt the familiar feeling of being watched for a moment before the inkling quickly passed. She was prepared to try and return to sleep when a demanding knock echoed off of the door. Remembering the incident earlier, she quickly rose to allow entrance.

"Good evening," a girl, similar to Emilie's age, stood before her. Her dress mirrored Emilie's and her shoes, although scuffed and beginning to show wear, were the same as well.

Without waiting for permission, the girl made her way into the room, carrying a small bag in one hand.

"You're to have your hair braided before you begin work in the kitchens," she explained, removing dull frayed ribbons from the pouch and placing them on the mattress. "Sit," she commanded, gesturing to the floor in front of her.

Emilie did as she was told, the chill of the stone floor sending a visible shiver through her body.

The strange girl ran a comb through her golden locks before dutifully bringing the medium-length hair into a messy braid. The whole experience was odd and uncomfortable, but Emilie had learned not to question every little thing else she would go mad.

"You're to report to your assignment," the girl said, packing the unused ribbons back in her bag and heading towards the door.

"I don't even know where the kitchens are," Emilie pointed out, tightening the strings on her apron.

The girl silently beckoned her to follow before swinging open the door and exiting the room. Emilie followed after her, struggling to keep up as she wound her way in and out of various halls. They walked for what seemed like an eternity before coming to a stop outside of another door.

"Through there," she gestured before continuing down the hall to attend to her own duties.

Emilie took a steadying breath and slowly pushed open the door, revealing the chaos of a large kitchen. Pots and pans clanked against one another and girls were moving in and out carrying trays and baskets of produce. She quickly blended into the background and tried to become as inconspicuous as possible. A swat to the back of her head quickly let her know that she had failed.

"You're late," the woman from earlier spat, her scowl as prominent as ever.

"Apologies," Emilie muttered, her anger making a triumphant reappearance.

"You're to chop vegetables, think you'll be able to manage? Or perhaps I shall have to hold your hand?"

Emilie nodded, ignoring the sarcasm and taking her place at the counter, picking up the largest knife. A thought popped into her head that she could try and make a run for it. Now that she had a weapon, she wouldn't be as easily overtaken, she could try and get to the dungeons, free Jane and Thor and be on her merry way back home in time to save her frozen chicken. As quickly as the thought appeared, it sunk back into the depths of her mind. A meager girl with a kitchen knife was no match for these otherworldly beings; she'd be dead before she even left the kitchen.

Sucking in a breath of frustration, she began to dutifully chop the vegetables in front of her. Soon, she was lost in the rhythm of if and she felt herself growing less bitter and more content. Before she knew it, all of the veggies had been cut and she was being dismissed for the rest of the night with orders to return at dawn for the breakfast shift.

Stumbling through the shadows and dead-ends of the hallway, she finally managed to find her room. The mattress that had disgusted her hours earlier now served as a welcoming sight. Her legs ached and her body was just so very tired. This whole debacle had been one surprise after another. She'd woken this morning like any other and yet here she was, dressed in servant's clothes and working beneath the God of bitterness and daddy issues.

She contemplated crying again, hoping it might purge her of the shitstorm brewing inside her head. When she scrunched up her face and prepared for the first sob, she was surprised to find that no tears came. Perhaps she'd cried them all out or maybe she was just beginning to not care. Both possibilities were equally troubling, and it was only the first wretched night of many nights to come.

-

The sound of chatter and heavy footsteps awoke her the next morning. Her neck was stiff and her body was still sore from the journey yesterday. Her ribs were dully throbbing and she was almost certain she'd done some type of damage when she landed. It wasn't as if she could ask someone to look at it though, so she simply tried her best to ignore it.

Rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and began the process of waking up slowly. Part of her had hoped she'd wake up in her bed, panicked and sweaty from the nightmare that was her life now. The cold chill beneath her and the stench of her surroundings reminded her just how far from home she truly was.

A loud succession of knocks came from the door. As she was beginning to stand, the door swung open with a bang. The commanding woman that seemed to plague Emilie at every turn strolled over to her with purpose and quickly struck her face once more, splitting open the same spot on her lip and causing Emilie to gasp with pain.

"I told you to answer when someone requests entrance," she berated, standing with her hands on her hips and looking damn pleased with herself.

Suddenly, Emilie felt all the rage and fear boil over at once and without thinking, she reached up and pushed the woman with such force that she fell back against the wall.

Looking at what she'd done, she began to feel the icy inkling of horror creep through her veins. If she'd gotten slapped for not answering the door on time, she was sure to be tossed into the lion's den for physically assaulting someone.

The beastly woman looked as shocked as Emilie, placing a hand over her heart and another across her open mouth.

"The King will hear of this," she spat before scrambling up and out to the right towards the throne room.

"Shit," Emilie cursed, bringing her hands up to tangle in her hair and pacing the length of her chambers. "Shit, shit, shit."

 _I have to run_ , she thought, knowing that if she didn't she'd surely face punishment far more severe than a wimpy slap. Slipping her shoes on, she quickly scurried to the open door, turning left and right to ensure there was no one to stop her. When she heard no immediate footsteps, she took off, her slippers making soft padding noises as she wound her way through the maze of halls. Her breathing was becoming erratic as she felt the walls begin to close in on her. She hadn't a clue of her surroundings and yet here she was, trying to make a stealthy escape like some kind of James Bond wannabe.

Just when she thought she'd simply turn around and try her luck at hiding, she saw a large door. She didn't remember seeing it a moment ago but somehow, it was now right in front of her. With no other options, she pushed it open and fell back against it, closing it with a satisfying latch. Horror washed over her like an icy shower.

"No, this isn't real," she said aloud, noticing she was somehow back in her own room.

"Hello darling," a voice purred from the corner, "leaving so soon?"


	4. Throne

_**First of all, thank you SO much to everyone who has started this journey with me! You're all amazing and your kind words have truly touched my tiny little heart! Secondly, I have to give a huge apology for this unforgivable delay. I could give you all the reasons why, but just rest assured that it won't happen again! I've got the next few chapters ready to go, I just have to edit them and post them and we're gold. Again, you're all super beautiful french toast muffins and I wish I could give you each a small woodland creature that talks and sings and tells you you're pretty every day! Much love X.**_

With horror, she stared wide-eyed into mischievous green ones alight with amusement.

"I'm a bit offended, if I may speak freely," he began, taking a step closer to her, "You see, I've given you these-" he paused, letting his eyes roam around the room "- _lovely_ quarters, I've graciously clothed you so that you don't stick out like a sore thumb, and I've given you work to occupy your dull mind and yet, that doesn't seem to be good enough for you, does it?"

She stiffened, blinking in disbelief.

"You made me a slave! This isn't the glorious position you think it to be!" she spat, her anxiety and fear boiling over in a reckless display of anger.

All hint of playfulness quickly vanished from his face, being replaced by a less-desirable incredulous, venomous expression.

"You dare to raise your voice to me?" His voice was even yet cut through her like ice.

She swallowed, pushing herself against the door until she hurt.

"I've spared you your worthless head and yet you treat me with such disrespect in return? You're right, pet, you're not a slave and you're not a peasant. A slave would know to show their master some honor and gratitude. I can reverse this situation so that you'll be begging to live in such luxury, _swine_."

He was now breathing heavy and she could see spit gathered on his bottom lip and his chin, the anger physically radiating off of him.

Her mouth had gone dry and her heart was beating so fast she thought it would soon simply stop or go into absolute overdrive.

"Why are you so scared now pet? You seemed so eager to speak out against me a moment ago and yet now you cower like a dog about to be beaten."

She did not answer, not sure if she even could.

"Well, if you've nothing to say I think we should end our little arrangement and move our meeting to the execution yard," he began, taking another step towards her.

"No!" She yelped, her voice hoarse but firm.

He raised an eyebrow as he came to a halt a mere foot from her, his playful smile reappearing as he regarded her.

"I-I'll be your slave, whatever you want," she muttered, shame filling her as she released her freedom to this madman.

His smirk blossomed into a full on grin, but she did not smile back, instead it made her feel ill.

"Good girl, I knew you couldn't be so stubborn. Now, I will acquiesce that this type of work is a bit beneath you. After all, you are a Midgardian. You are a superior and worthy being, isn't that right?"

"No," she replied, keeping her gaze on his chest, too afraid to look into his eyes again.

"That's how all Midgardians are. You think you're the sole inhabitants of the universe and, therefore, the most advanced species. Well, if you hadn't noticed, pet, there are things in this life that are far beyond what your puny mind can comprehend. Putting all your shortcomings aside-and there are quite a few- I do find your spark intriguing. I could use someone by my side to entertain me when courtly business becomes dull. I'll let you clean yourself up and become presentable and then I want you to meet me back in the throne room."

He moved to open the door, and she scurried out of the way.

As he stood in the doorway, prepared to leave, he looked over his shoulder at her once more.

"If I have to fetch you again, pet, you'll be choking on your own blood."

She felt an icy shiver run through her once more, his words hitting her like a physical blow.

With one final look of contempt, he slammed the door behind him and disappeared, leaving Emilie to fall to the floor and try and rationalize what had happened to her in less than a day.

She sat on the cold floor hugging her knees for what felt like an eternity when another knock came at the door. Her heart rate began to increase again as she stood clumsily to answer it. Relief flooded her when she saw the same strange girl from earlier, the one who'd braided her hair and prepared her for the kitchens. This time, she carried a dress over her arm and black sandals in the other.

"You're to be dressed in royal attire," she said as a greeting, breezing past her and setting the dress down on her bed.

An overwhelming amount of stress and fear began to seep its way into her veins, causing her head to pound and her hands to shake. She did not ask for any of this, this was not her battle and yet here she was, dressing the part of a prisoner and succumbing to the demands of a lunatic.

Perhaps she should have simply agreed to an execution.


	5. Boiling Points

_Hello lovelies! Thank you ALL again for your reviews/follows/favorites. I never expected to receive such wonderful words and you're all fueling my writing fire! Like I mentioned, I have a few more chapters already written, it just takes a bit to go over them and smooth them out but rest assured, the longest delay you can expect is 2-3 days! I'm on a roll now so I hope you're all ready to hop on the crazy train. Loki is a bit of a dickwad and he will be for a while but truuuuuussssssst me, he'll be calming his tits eventually. Thank you again for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this chapter! You're all the ketchup to my mustard and the hot to my potato! X._

She was dressed swiftly in a billowing, floor-length sleeveless emerald gown. Her golden locks hung lifeless, framing her petrified face.

"This way," the girl instructed, beckoning her to follow behind her as she made to exit the room. Emilie gave a curt nod, stepping behind the stranger as they made their way through the familiar hallways and back outside the doors of the throne room. Her shaking hands had become damp with sweat and she tried to take a steadying breath before taking the final steps into the vast and hollow room.

As expected, her captor and current object of hatred was seated triumphantly in his regular seat, his legs spread in an act of dominance and a prideful smile plastered across his smug face.

"Ah, so wonderful of you to join me!" He boomed, his silky voice echoing off the walls and filtering into her ears, causing her to shiver in disdain and fear.

She continued to follow her strange guide until they reached the base of the steps once more. The girl gave a low bow to Loki before scurrying back out of the room, leaving the two of them as the sole occupants.

The silence that followed only served to fuel her anxiety. She kept her wary gaze fixed on her own feet, hoping that some distraction would soon make itself known and mercy would allow her to be removed from the scrutinizing gaze of the false Prince before her.

"Well, pet, I must say, you do clean up rather nicely," he purred. "Had I known there were some redeeming qualities about you, perhaps I wouldn't have wasted everyone's time with sending you to the kitchens. You'll serve well as a tease for my visitors. Perhaps we could rent you out," he mused, his voice trailing off in thought.

The idea of being sold to other men like him made her stomach plummet and she felt unwelcome bile rising in her throat, tears automatically stinging her eyes. She swallowed quickly and tried to regain her composure.

"Oh dear, have we upset my little pet?"

She did not respond, keeping her gaze down.

"You will answer when spoken to," he growled.

"No, I'm not upset," she lied, her hands instinctually balling into fists at her side.

"No? So then you're fine with my idea?"

She paused. "Well, no."

He clapped his hand against his thigh. "See! I knew my precious pet was perturbed. You'd do well to not lie to me, I assure you it never works out for those who make that mistake more than once," he warned. "You should also know that I don't particularly care whether or not you're comfortable with any of my suggestions. You serve _me_ , not the other way around. If I want to rent you to my visitors, guess what you'll be doing, sweet pet?"

She raised her gaze to his and instantly regretted it. The pleasure that was plastered across his classically beautiful features was ugly and revolting. A handsome man turned undesirable.

"Well? I do believe I asked you a question."

"I'll be rented out, whether I like it or not."

"Good girl. Now, lets not get carried away with ourselves. We've got some time before you're deemed presentable enough for such escapades."

As much as it shouldn't, his comments were gnawing on the thinning floodgate of insecurities she kept pent up. Whatever this madman said shouldn't hurt her feelings or cause her embarrassment. Logically, she knew she had bigger problems to face, such as the promise of indefinite servitude and the ever-present threat of execution should she become another dull and useless toy to the petulant man before her. Like it or not, her situation depended on how well she could play her part. If anything, she could buy herself time to figure out a way out of this mess. Thoughts of Jane and Thor fluttered through her mind in between tactics for guaranteeing her own survival. Were they alright? Was she the only one facing this cruel punishment?

She could feel her heartbeat accelerating as panic began to set in and she was once more reminded how much her life had changed in such a short amount of time. Her mouth had gone dry and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears.

"Are you quite alright?"

His voice was present yet she could hardly hear him as if he were calling to her from across the room. She began to sway on her feet as her balance suddenly switched off. With a loud 'oomph', she unexpectedly collapsed on the ground, landing painfully on her tailbone and crashing her teeth together, leaving her head throbbing.

"Are you defective?"

Between the pain of the fall and the anxiety of her situation, her fear was slowly manifesting into annoyance.

"Defective?" She ground out, her hand slowly massaging the aching spot at the base of her spine. "I almost passed out, that doesn't make me fucking defective. I'm not a toy."

"Oh, but you are," he laughed. "You're under my control to do with as I please. I believe that likens you to a toy," he explained, his condescending tone doing nothing to cool her rising temper.

The terrified, small girl that had stood before him had suddenly vanished. Instead, she was growing furious with every stab of pain that radiated throughout her body as she rested upon the cool, marble floor of her foreign prison.

"In that case, that must mean that _you're_ a child if all you do is play with toys. Like a child, you also throw temper tantrums when someone speaks out against you and you have to scare people into submission so that you don't wind up alone to rot in the corners of your precious, isolated castle," she spat, fear ebbing away with each venomous insult that she spoke. She thought that, perhaps, all of the terror that had been bottled up inside her had all but vanished.

That is, until, she was eye-level with a sturdy pair of black boots. She could feel the fury radiating off of him before he even spoke, his sudden close proximity sending waves of rage. Her boldness brought on by pain and anger had now caused her to cower like an animal about to be punished.

"Stand up," he commanded, his voice low and even.

She knew better than to disobey right now and, with difficulty, she finally managed to stand, her shoulders hunched and her arms instinctually wrapping around herself, preparing for the worst.

"Look at me."

She raised her wary gaze to his. The wrath etched upon his features made her gasp for she had never seen someone filled with so much loathing and abhorrence.

"I have been _very_ patient with you. Had I wanted to, I could have ripped your throat out the moment you _ever_ dared to defy me. I've been nothing but blunt in explaining how fragile your life is in my presence and yet you continue to test me with every action you perform and word you speak. Tell me, pet, do you wish death upon yourself? Say the word and I'll grant you a final act of mercy and grant your wish. But know this: I am not wearing a mask when I tell you that your inferior existence is quickly becoming a nuisance. Do not delude yourself into thinking that because I have taken an interest in you that it means you are by any means special or exempt. You are a plaything amongst treasure trove of disposable toys for me. I must say, the arrival and jailing of my pathetic half-wit of a brother has put me in an unusually good mood that not even your ignorance can shatter. Because of this, I offer you one more chance to play nicely. If you dare to speak like that to me again, if you make any attempt to flee, if you so much as hesitate when I call to you, I will squeeze the life out of your pitiful body with my bare hands. Do you understand me?"

His breathing was erratic and his chest was heaving once he had finished, yet his voice had remained icily even and menacing.

She weakly nodded, her own breathing coming out in short, desperate gasps.

"Answer me," he snarled, his hands reaching out to tightly grip her shoulders.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, the familiar faint feeling slowly creeping up her neck.

He continued to stare at her with disdain before roughly releasing her, letting her fall back to the ground unceremoniously. The pain in her back shot once more throughout her body yet she barely paid it any mind. Her earlier confidence in herself and her plan to escape now felt like a foolish idea. She had clearly underestimated her position here. With no motivation to begin to think of another plan, she simply sat defeated on the floor.

"Now, shall we discuss your official duties?"

His voice had returned to its normal, mischievous tone, all traces of malice evaporating into a single, haunting memory.

"Yes," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Good girl," he praised, "come stand by me, this is where you're to always stand when you're summoned."

She slowly pulled herself back off the floor, biting her lip to stifle a whimper as raw pain began to emanate throughout her entire body. Limping slightly, as her right ankle had taken much of her weight both times she'd crumbled to the ground, she clumsily made her way to the top of the stairs, finally stopping once she'd made it to the left side of his ornate throne.

"Wonderful. Isn't it so much easier when you do things the first time you're told instead of all of the fuss?"

"Yes."

"Oh come now, pet, just because I want you to obey me doesn't mean I want that spark of yours to dull. Being boring is almost as bad as disregarding my commands."

"Apologies," she murmured, leaning against the pillar behind her and sighing as she was able to take some weigh off of her foot.

"As a merciful king," he began and she quickly bit back a retort, "I can grant you some time to recover. I can see that your mind is elsewhere and I don't like to repeat myself. You are free to return to your chambers for now but you will be summoned for dinner and I expect this moodiness to evaporate by then, are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Very well. We'll continue this conversation when you're more attentive. You may leave," he finished with a dismissive wave of his hand and she did not stick around to argue.

The walk back to her room seemed longer than before but when she finally made it back, she quickly collapsed onto her bed. The mattress that she'd once thought disgusting and unsanitary now felt like heaven beneath her aching back. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to block out all of her thoughts for surely the weight of them would crush her. Instead, she let herself think of the smell of warm bread that was slowly drifting through her room from the kitchens down the hall and the occasional patter of busy feet outside her door. Soon enough, the pain of her body and mind eased into unconsciousness and for the first time since she'd arrived, she was at peace.


End file.
